


In The Middle

by eyasarcher



Series: Shorts [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint is glad to have a friend, Depression, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Natasha Is Amazing, Steve Is a Good Bro, bucky really needs a hug, tw for anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 07:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyasarcher/pseuds/eyasarcher
Summary: Bucky can't shake the feelings that consume him, Steve just wants his Bucky back, Tony just wants Steve to be happy, Clint just wants to help, and Natasha like giving hugs.





	In The Middle

Contrary to popular belief, Bucky’s first few months living in The Avengers tower were by far the easiest. He spent all of his time locked away on Steve’s floor. He never really slept, nor spoke much, he mostly just sat in the furthest corner of the biggest window watching the tiny blips of people and cars.

Credit where it’s due, Steve handled the whole situation about a hundred times better than Bucky would of if the roles had been reversed. He held a conversation when he knew that Bucky could, forced food upon him which hadn’t been easy at the best of times, and he even helped the assassin make a tiny fort of pillows and blankets in the corner of the window just so that he felt more at ease in his unfamiliar surroundings.

And although Bucky’s state was definitely not a healthy one, it was bearable because it was his comfortably numb stage, in which his mind was so overwhelmed that it just shut down completely, and Bucky was perfectly fine with that, it was in fact the first time in years that his brain was silent in the best kind of way.

But the trouble came once he got back in touch with himself, when the guilt and gravity of his past sat so heavy in the centre of his life that he found himself consumed by it. This was Hydra’s design, granted they never thought Bucky would escape their clutches, but they made sure that their presence would shape his life.

His seemingly peaceful sleepless nights warped into restless nights of flashbacks painted the colour of blood, the screams of his victims so loud that the sounds continued to resonate and bounce around the walls of his mind long after the nightmare was over. Bucky was drowning in guilt, it sat there in his chest, materialising itself in the form of panic attacks, mood swings, and evenings spent curled over the toilet vomiting.

God, he’d have done anything to quiet his mind, and for so long the urge to disappear completely was overwhelming. He probably would have been okay if he’d been able to get drunk, or he might have ended up dead, who knows?

But things got surprisingly better once he was finally introduced to the rest of the tower beyond Steve’s room. Sure, it was difficult to bite back the bile that pooled in the back of his throat, and seeing the trauma in Tony’s eyes was a kick in the teeth every time their gaze met, but it was a distraction from the months spent wallowing in depression and anxiety.

Natasha was Bucky’s rock for the longest time, she was quiet and stern, but her no-nonsense approach to life was the kick up the bum Bucky often needed.

“ _You need to shower, I’m not having you stinking up the communal room, especially since I eat here.”_

Bucky had been offended at first, distant memories of a young Natalia with soft kisses and thick thighs haunted him, re-igniting the pool of gasoline in his chest and leaving him feeling lonely and scared. He was mostly worried that she’d still be chasing after a man that wasn’t Bucky anymore, but he soon realised that she too was fighting her own demons, busy trying to let go of Natalia from The Red Room, and had no interest whatsoever in rekindling the romance they once shared.

This was comforting for the man, knowing there was no expectations with Natasha, and from an outside perspective her methods of looking after Bucky may have seemed unorthodox and cold, but the forbearing and soft look she adopted on the nights she spent listening to Bucky recalling missions and kills, her expression unwavered by judgement, told a different story.

And despite feeling like he was making progress, slowly crawling out from the shell he’d been living in, Bucky couldn’t help but feel sharp pangs of guilt every time that he met Steve’s eyes. It was clear to the assassin that the man wasn’t even slightly stable. Steve was still trying to process the 21st century and mourn the deaths of every person he once knew, and his progress was completely blown to shit when Bucky turned up with his thousands of issues in tow.

So, despite the burning love that Bucky still felt for his un-biological brother, and the appreciation he had for Steve’s patience and tenderness, even in Bucky’s darkest moments, he couldn’t seek the man out for conversation. He just couldn’t shake the glazed look that came over Steve’s face when he saw the arm, or the way that he tensed up when Bucky spoke about his time with Hydra.

It just made the whole guilt thing so much worse, he wanted so badly to be able to cry on Steve’s shoulder and pull him close, tell him that everything was going to work out just fine, but he couldn’t hold that kind of promise on his shoulders, not when he was already buried beneath the weight of his thoughts.

And then came the range, what is still known to be one of Bucky’s unhealthiest coping strategies. On the nights when Natasha was unavailable and Bucky couldn’t sleep, his ears sensitive to the arguments between Steve and Tony, the topic mostly centred on how Steve was being swallowed whole by Bucky’s problems and dropping his relationship, the assassin sought comfort in the form of a gun.

Not as bad as it sounds.

On those nights he often found himself at the shooting range, the silence of the empty hall comforting. He would pick up his rifle, set up the longest possible course that he could find (generally averaging out at about three and a half hours) and would proceed to shoot his way through all of his problems.

It was ridiculous and unhealthy at best, and when Natasha had found out she’d sighed and rolled her eyes, murmuring something along the lines of how she’d ended up with another one. And Bucky didn’t understand what she’d been talking about, until the one night when he’d headed down to the range, intentions being to shoot until his fingertips calloused and his head thumped with lack of sleep, and then when he arrived at the hall, the place was lit up. So, he moved to one of the observation windows, nerves clipping his vision, but upon peeking through the assassin noted Tasha’s partner, Clint. His mouth ran dry when he saw the man sagging with exhaustion, but still holding his bow with the solid grip of a determined man.

The first time Bucky had met Clint was his first day on the communal floor; he hadn’t slept in nearly seventy two hours, his heart was racing so fast in his chest that could have sworn he was about to drop dead, and he was so tense and uptight that even the smallest sound had his flesh hand pawing at the knife tucked under his belt.

And then Clint fucking Barton walks up, hands Bucky a full mug which he timidly accepts and looks up, eyes all heavy and tired, and says,

_“You’re gonna need some coffee, pal.”_

Natasha had snorted but given Clint a somewhat disapproving look over Bucky’s shoulder, and Steve had levelled the blonde with a decent impression of Bucky’s Winter Soldier glare, but weirdly enough the weight and scalding heat of the drink in his hand had given Bucky something to hold onto, something to keep him grounded during the initial moments of being introduced. Clint had wandered out of the room following the brief interaction, huffing and waving a hand in Steve’s face.

 Bucky hadn’t really seen much of the man since, he’d bumped into him once or twice on his way up to grab food from the communal floor, majority on the nights when he’d end up throwing up the contents of his dinner, and Clint had seemed unfazed by the man’s presence, not getting tense like Tony or Wanda, and not getting twitchy like Steve or Sam, he would simply give him a tight lipped smile and be on his way.

That was right up until Clint had wandered in halfway through one of Bucky’s panic attacks. The assassin had genuine intentions when he’d headed up to the communal floor that night, Steve had been engulfed in another fiery argument with Tony before it somehow lead into passionate make-up sex, and Bucky would be lying through and through if he said he was comfortable with hearing his best friend of basically a hundred years moaning and panting. Not okay.

So, he’d gone up to the communal floor to make himself a hot chocolate hoping that maybe he’d be able to track down Natasha afterwards and spend the night with her, but things don’t ever run smoothly with Bucky, because he was practically done making the drink when he knocked a cup from the side, the shattering of the heavy glass sounding so alike to the drill that they’d work on his arm with, that Bucky’s body when into complete override, he was on the floor in seconds with the hot drink discarded on the pristine white tiles.

All he could see was red. He could hear the desperate cries of Tony’s mother when he had leaned into the car and choked her to death with the metal of his hand, and the cracking sound when Bucky had swung forwards and fractured Steve’s eye socket in three places, his metal limb unrelenting and brutal.

Bucky was finding it hard to see past the illusion of his past, his vision was becoming fuzzy with tears, sick rising in his throat.

And then suddenly there was a figure, sat leaning against the cabinets just across from Bucky. The assassin forced himself to focus, confusion overriding the feeling of pure dread running through his veins, and once his breathing had evened out a little and he was able to blink away what tears remained, he was surprised to see Clint sat across from him, a smug smile on his lips.

“ _Watcha’ looking at?”_ Bucky had bit, trying to ignore how he’d managed to bite through his lip and fill his mouth with blood.

“ _A mess,”_ Clint chuckled, pulling himself from the floor and tiptoeing over to the sink to avoid the broken glass.

“ _Thanks for that, pal. Coulda’ helped a guy out.”_ Bucky had found himself feeling a little like he did when Natasha had first started calling him out, but this stung more, like Clint was happy to see what a state he was in.

The archer had snorted and leant down to Bucky’s level, ignoring how the assassin flinched away a tad when Clint started clearing the glass closest to him.

_“And do what? Talk shit to you and tell you how everything is going to be okay and that it will all go away soon. Nah, you’re a stronger man than that, Barnes. It’s gotta get dismal before it gets even slightly better.”_

Bucky had felt like someone had thrown him into a pool of freezing water, his head had snapped up so fast that he’d been sure he’d got whiplash. Clint was just looking at him, his face sympathetic but not pitying, and Bucky was completely unnerved and thrown by how much the archer had struck a chord with him.

_“…. Thanks.”_

Clint had grinned all cheeky and wide before clearing up the last of the glass and casting Bucky one last look over his shoulder before moving to leave.

_“See you around, Barnes.”_

Following the interaction Bucky had spent a lot of time thinking about Clint, and had found himself feeling oddly relaxed. It felt like someone had taken a pin and popped the bubble he had been living in for the last six months, a wave of reassurance washing over the assassin every time he thought about Barton.

Suddenly he found himself seeking out Clint’s presence at communal breakfasts, or movie nights that Steve and Tony would drag him to with promises of hot chocolate and marshmallows. Bucky would enter the room and instead of doing his usual scope, he would locate Clint as quickly as possible and stick close to him.

Barton didn’t seem to mind at all, he would in fact encourage Barnes with pre-made mugs of hot chocolate, or a tiny welcome gesture in the form of a nod or a flick of the wrist. The others didn’t notice Bucky slipping away and gravitating towards the archer, apart from Natasha of course who would often sweep past the two and drape her delicate fingers across the nape of Bucky’s neck, something that if anyone else tried the assassin would freak, but it was Natasha’s little grounding gesture, soft and gentle, always working to ease the tension from Bucky’s shoulders. Clint would watch from the corner of his eyes, a smile threatening to make an appearance.

Then instead of bothering Steve, who was usually either fast asleep or up in Tony’s lab, on the nights when he was restless and unsettled Bucky would ask Jarvis if Clint was awake, and 99% of the time when the answer was yes, Bucky would make his way down to the range knowing that Clint would soon appear.

It was a mostly silent exchange, with either man occasionally passing a boastful comment or remark on the others shooting ability, but the two quickly struck up a friendship.

Bucky began to feel very protective over Clint, the kind of way he did back when Steve wasn’t six feet tall with a punch to match. The tragic little blonde was forever hurting himself, either through recklessness or just being an idiot, but Bucky found it endearing.

Mostly though, he just enjoyed the archers company. The man was sarcastic and quick witted, but his whole demeanour was relaxed and gentle. Bucky could see that Clint was a damaged man, obviously one who was using his own experiences to help others and noted that Barton was kind of like the dad of The Avengers.

He’d watched from a safe distance as Clint laced nimble fingers through Wanda’s hair, she leaned back into the archer and gave him a look like he’d hung the stars in the sky. Then there was the time he’d carried a very drunk Tony back to his room and sat with him until all the tears were replaced through laughter, Bucky knew this because he’d had to drag Steve away from Tony’s bar before their argument got any worse. And the most insightful was the morning he’d accidentally stumbled in on Natasha and Clint’s heart to heart. Romanoff was sprawled across Clint’s lap with her head on his shoulder, face buried in his neck as her body jerked a little from sobs racking her frame. Clint didn’t say anything instead choosing to press a chaste kiss to her temple. Bucky had suddenly felt very out of his depth, the guilt once again swallowing him up once he realised that Tasha was not as strong as she let on.

Clint had looked over Natasha at him, he was just about ready to turn and leave Barton’s room when the archer gave him a tight lipped smile, one that was apologetic and forbearing. Bucky knew that the archer obviously felt guilty for not being able to give Bucky the sanctuary he was seeking, but the assassin just waved his flesh hand dismissively and left the two alone.

That morning Bucky had made his way down to the gym and burnt off steam through the destruction of a punching bag, his shoulders a little less squared than usual. It was strange not having Clint by his side and witnessing the man giving others the attention he craved, but it settled comfortably in the centre of Bucky’s chest.

 It was only then that he realised that he’d bothered to wrap his knuckles and was swinging punches the right way, careful as to not break any bones. And for the first time that he could remember, Bucky found himself laughing, because Barton wasn’t even here and yet the archer was influencing Bucky’s coping strategies.

The assassin had sought out Steve after that, desperation flooding his body and silencing the doubt riddling his thoughts. He’d found the soldier in the communal kitchen, all bleary eyed and sleepy. Bucky had stormed up and Steve had all but woken up, his eyes widening when he’d noticed the determination in the other man’s stride.

“ _Buck?”_ He’d said, his voice scratchy but concerned. The assassin didn’t say anything and instead sprung his arms around Steve and pulled him into the tightest hug. The soldier had gasped a little but quickly worked to loop his arms around his friend and drag him closer, “ _everything okay?”_ he’d whispered.

_“I just never said thank you for always having my back. I know I’m not exactly the man that you remember, and I haven’t really been much of a friend either, but I’m glad to have you back Stevie, and I’m sorry if I’ve ever put you in a difficult position.”_

Steve pulled away a little at that, his mouth forming a wobbly smile. He didn’t utter a word favouring yanking Bucky back in and giving him the warmest, most amazing hug that Bucky had ever experienced.

_“I missed you, Buck.”_

It was only a few days later that Bucky had gone to find Clint, he hadn’t seen the archer since his encounter with Natasha in the bed room and wanted to tell him about the progress he’d made with Steve. However, upon finding Clint curled up on the roof of the building, Bucky knew immediately that something was wrong.

He’d sat down beside the archer and dared to peer across. Clint had his legs folded up against his body with his chin propped against his knees, the usual quirk to Clint’s face completely gone. The archer looked tired and withered, his eyes shallow and dark against his pale skin.

 _“Steve ever tell you about New York?”_ He’d grunted, his eyes remaining on the vast skyline.

“ _Obviously, I even remember a bit of it. Pierce was going into meltdown mode over the idea of aliens taking over, though he was rather pleased with himself when the council favoured his idea of bombing The Avengers-“_

_“No. Do you know what happened to me?”_

Clint looked at him when he said it, his gaze dark and unwavering. Bucky found that the bubbling anxiety that had been all but forgotten made a reappearance, the taste of sick once again tinging his taste buds.

“ _No.”_

Clint had huffed and turned his gaze back to the city, a sigh falling from his lips.

“ _I was at one of the SHIELD bases watching the tesseract. It was boring at best, but things took a turn for the interesting once Loki, the god behind the whole charade, made an appearance.”_ Clint had dropped his gaze to his hands, nervously fiddling, “ _He had an infinity stone in his sceptre. Anyways it turns out said stone can be used to control people,”_ Clint looked back at Bucky then, his expression so deeply pained that Bucky had to really resist the urge to hug the man, “ _I was under his mind control for like four days? I killed approximately twenty eight SHIELD agents, injuring an additional thirty, and participating in the deaths of three hundred and sixty two civilians. I was the reason Loki was able to escape, and I was the reason that my handler and closest friend of eight years was murdered.”_

_“Clint-“_

_“I spent three weeks in isolation at SHIELD’s headquarters; five months having evaluations and tests on a weekly basis, two month’s probation period at the tower, I took three weeks to properly speak to anyone that wasn’t Nat, and I’m still recovering four years later,”_ Clint had turned to smile weakly at Bucky, “ _I still have nightmares, vivid and detailed and bright. And I still have panic attacks that just shut me down. But mostly, I’m at ease with my past. See the thing is, this life is way too short and way too shitty to focus on all your regrets and mistakes, you need to pursue the life you wish to live, and if you don’t know what you want yet, you’ve got to push to feel better, if not for your own benefit then for the people around you. I can see you starting to break the ice, Buck. The next few months are going to be the worst of your life, you’re going to want to sink back into the hole you were in and you’re gonna’ want to run away. But I need you to know that we’re all fucked, every single one of us. Wanda’s only remaining relation was killed during her first outing with us; Tony is suffering, he’s been to hell and back but he won’t ever admit that. Natasha is still trying to let go of who she was moulded to be, struggling to free herself from The Red Room. I’m almost certain Banner spends most of his time wishing he were dead. And Steve, well…. You know how it is.”_

Bucky feels awful but his insecurities seem to melt away, his brain is swimming with the idea of relapsing into that terrible state of mind, but he feels oddly reassured by the fact that he’s not alone in how he feels and thinks, especially given that Clint has been through an ordeal of a very similar nature.

_“We’re all going to have off days, and it fucking sucks. But you’re never alone, we’re a family and we look out for each other. You can always find safety in this tower.”_

_“Then why are you sat up here all alone?”_

Clint huffed a laugh and looked at Bucky, his smile broadening out.

“ _I had a feeling that you would find me,”_ he shrugged, the statement leaving Bucky with the warm fuzzies. He’d never really contemplated being anyone’s rock, “ _You get it. Natasha is great and she’s always been so amazing at dealing with my emotions, and Wanda and the others are great too. But none of them really understand the ball of guilt and anger that sits right in the middle of my chest twenty four hours a day. It wavers, gets overwhelmed by other feelings and emotions, but mostly it just sits there, and even when I know it’s not there I convince myself that it’ll come back.”_

Bucky moved to sling an arm around Clint’s shoulder. In response the archer sighed and leant his head back against Bucky’s shoulder, nuzzling slightly into the crook of Bucky’s neck and closing his eyes.

The nature of their friendship changed following that day. They became an equal force, both emotionally and physically. They were almost always at each other’s sides spitting jokes and laughing at the expense of the team, but once Bucky was cleared for the field, they were a force to be reckoned with. Bucky found it easier to fall into a style with the likes of Clint and Natasha, finding that the assassins shared very similar training to what he had.

The others were harder to fall in with, Steve being the least difficult of course, it wasn’t too long before Bucky felt practically at home fighting besides his best friend. Wanda and Sam proved a little harder. Sam’s fighting style was structured and limited, whereas Wanda was erratic and kinda crazy.

So, it wasn’t long before Bucky was turning to the resident hawk for tips. Clint was like an encyclopaedia when it came to his teammates, knowing exactly how each individual ticked, and it wasn’t long before Bucky found a close friend and ally in each of them.

One evening in late September, when the rest of the team were off doing their own thing, Bucky took some time out to go and sit in the corner of the largest Window on Steve’s floor. Steve stopped spending as much time on his floor after he’d admitted to the team that most nights were spent with Tony, and Bucky found that the place brought him an odd sense of nostalgia, the tiny blips of people and cars seeming unchanged since the first time he’d sat there well over a year ago.

He’d sighed and ran his hands through his hair, struggling with the gravity of how much his life had changed since then. It was definitely more complicated and proved to be a complete pain in the ass, but he’d found a family in The Avengers.

_“You okay?”_

Bucky had drawn his gaze to the door only to find Natasha leant against the frame, her expression soft and open. The assassin had nodded and with a head flick gestured that she join him. She had sauntered over and plonked herself in his lap, sighing and leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his unshaven cheek.

“ _Told me a year ago that’d I’d share this space with anyone that wasn’t Steve, and I’d of told you to go fuck yourself.”_

Natasha chuckled at that and looped her arms around his middle to rest her chin on his steady moving chest.

“ _I’m assuming this was your vantage point?”_

“ _How’d you guess?”_

The red head looked up at Bucky from beneath sweeping lashes, a smile pulling itself onto her velvet lips.

_“Clint used to have them all over the place, there was one in the rafters of the gym, another in the vents above the communal room. He won’t admit it, but in those first few months Clint spent his time protecting us, more from himself than anyone else.”_

Bucky’s heart rate had picked up at the mention of his closest friend, a smile rising on his features and a familiar kind of warmth settling in the pit of his stomach. Natasha had smirked and moved to press a strong hand against Bucky’s chest.

 _“What’s wrong, soldier?”_ Bucky had met her gaze with an intense glare, but the blush creeping up his cheeks gave him away, “ _a little birdy told me that he’s getting tired of waiting.”_

Bucky couldn’t have hid the surprise on his face even if he had tried, his jaw practically fell open which prompted some giggling on Natasha’s behalf.

“ _What?”_

 _“You should make a move, Barnes,”_ Natasha had ghosted her delicate fingers across the plains of Bucky’s broad chest, “ _you both deserve a shot.”_

Bucky had tensed up at that, his brain flooded with insecurities. He’d only just managed to regain any sense of who he was, let alone share his scattered emotions with someone else.

“ _I can practically see what you’re thinking. It’s not like you two haven’t been living out of each other’s pockets for the past eight months anyways. Trust me on this one,”_ she’d unfolded herself from Bucky’s lap and placed another fleeting kiss on his cheek, “ _Don’t think about this one too much, B.”_

The weeks that followed were a muddle of emotions. Bucky started to notice the way that Clint would catch his eye, or how Barton would curl into Bucky’s lap during their movie nights, sighing contently when Bucky ran gentle fingers through the archers dusty blonde hair.

It sent Bucky into a downward spiral, the uncertainty of what he was feeling reminding him far too much of his first months spent in the tower. So he relapsed into isolation, finding solace in the silence of the shooting range and the largest window on Steve’s old floor. Though unlike his initial arrival, Bucky couldn't escape Steve’s attention.

“ _This has got to stop.”_ Steve announced when he wondered onto his floor to find Bucky back under the blanket fort, “ _I hate seeing you like this, Buck.”_

_“Piss off, Steve.”_

Steve had sighed and discarded the sketch book he was holding, instead crossing the room and falling beside Bucky, tugging at the blankets until he was tucked up beside his friend.

“ _This about, Clint? He’s been unbearable. Won’t stop complaining that he’s missing his ‘sniper bro,’”_

Bucky had looked at Steve then, seeing the honest laid out on his face.

 _“You don’t know what you’re talking about,”_ the assassin bit.

 _“What’s there to understand, Buck? I see two guys that are very much in love with each other, in every sense of the word. You can’t run from this,”_ Bucky glared at Steve with as much conviction as he could, but his features fell into a state of disarray prompting the other man to throw an arm across Bucky’s shoulders, “ _I get that you’re scared, god knows I was. But you can’t let go of this, Buck. Clint has seen you at your best and worse, he’s not going to think any less of you for being worried.”_

_“It feels too risky.”_

_“That’s bullshit. Just because your emotions are all over the place and I can bet that you’re trying to dig your way out of this, it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the risk. Bucky, you’re at the end of a certain phase in your life, you’ve gotten through the absolute worst of it, and now it’s time for a new challenge.”_

Bucky had looked up at Steve all wide eyed and childlike, his heart pounding so fast in his ribcage.

“ _How did you handle it?”_

_“I just laid all my cards on the table. Be honest and the rest will come naturally, it won’t be easy, but it’ll be worth it.”_

Bucky found himself in Clint’s room later that day, studying the soft curve of the archers face, and the square in the man’s shoulders. He’d never really thought much about Clint’s appearance, having already decided that the man was fairly attractive. But once he really looked at him, it was hard to ignore the pool of heat that ignited in the depths of his stomach.

 _“Hey, it’s good to see that you’ve finally managed to escape the fortress of blankets,”_ Clint’s smile was foreign, didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“ _Need to talk.”_ Was all Bucky had said, and he couldn’t ignore the way that Clint’s features locked.

“ _You okay?”_ Clint had stepped a little closer, his Adams apple bobbing with the deep intake of breath.

Bucky had moved to meet Clint, his eyes never leaving the archers, even once Clint tried to avoid the assassins burning gaze. Then Bucky had brought up a hand to Clint’s chin, prompting the man to look at him.

“ _I’m not going to run from this.”_

_“From what?”_

And it was with that, that Bucky had leaned in and pressed his lips to Clint, the archer squeaking a little when he did. Clint’s lips were dry and hot, Bucky chasing the taste of coffee on his breath. All of the tension had fallen from the blondes shoulders as he melted into it, clutching tightly onto Bucky’s shirt.

“ _Need you, always have and always will,”_ Bucky had whispered against corner of Clint’s mouth.

“ _Right here.”_ Clint had said before catching Bucky’s mouth again and widening the kiss, their teeth and tongues clashing.

Bucky’s once restless nights warped into sleepless nights spent pressing hot kisses to the nape of Clint’s neck, the fiery pits of anxiety settling comfortably besides the cool feeling that being in love brought. He wasn’t ever going to be ‘normal,’ but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel better, especially when he has Clint by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this story a few nights ago, I was feeling pretty crappy and had these thoughts of Bucky seeking out Clint. It was never meant to be as long as it turned out, and there's almost definitely some spelling and tense errors, but I've been up more or less all night and I literally cannot proof read right now. It'll more than likely end up being edited over time.  
> But yeah, I hope you all enjoy and love this fic as much as I really do, and in case you're wondering the title is taken from a song on Paramore's new album called Caught In The Middle, you should give it a listen.  
> Thanks again for the support and love and kudos, I love you all so much.  
> Sophie xo


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